


Stranger Than Fiction, Normal than Fact

by Overthinkerwrites



Series: The Crow's Murder [1]
Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Series
Genre: Bend of Canon, Body Horror, Character Development, F/F, Heart-to-Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overthinkerwrites/pseuds/Overthinkerwrites
Summary: Eleanor Hume thought she was ready to face the dangers of the world as an exorcist.She was not.-(5-26-2017: Updated with additional scenes. )





	Stranger Than Fiction, Normal than Fact

Eleanor Hume thought she was prepared to face the dangers of the world as an exorcist. Furthermore, as a Preator.

She was not.

*

Eleanor was only a child when she first saw the Red Moon. Fortunately, the town she lived in was protected enough, and close enough to the capital, that demonblight, while certainly known and spoken of openly between the people, had yet to reach them.

Nevertheless, Eleanor could not help but stare at the Red Moon. Every time. Twice, she had seen it. The time before she was too young to have been able to recall.

Her first experience, she saw the fear in the eyes of her parents, her neighbors, and the people she grew up with. Naturally, she asked questions of anyone that would answer. To her frustration, they would only answer in generalities and rumors. Everyone who claimed to have seen the violence of the Red Moon would eventually unfold when their experiences were put under scrutiny.

Naturally, when her parents could provide no satisfactory answer, she sought the answers out of others. Eventually, it came to the local representative of the Abbey to give her the explanations she sought.

Yet, even though it had answered her questions, it had only led to more questions.

What was the source of the demonblight? What brought about the Age of Calamity in the first place? And, most importantly, why were the people simply waiting for it to happen instead of trying to find a cure or a source and preferred to live in fear like everyone else?

Eleanor could not recall the exact day when she knew her course, however, it was enough that she began her studies to be an exorcist for the Abbey. If she could not stop it at its source, perhaps, her efforts to fend off the demon blight could lead to a solution.

Unfortunately, those capable of being exorcists were few and far in between. And given her inexperience, to attempt to fend off daemons was tantamount to suicide.

Everything changed when word spread of the onset of the new Empyrean, Innominat.

Many flocked to the side of the man called Artorious. Despite having the use of only one arm, he was far more capable than most of fending off daemons and monsters of all kinds. He was a walking miracle to many, especially those like herself who wished to do more.

With a zeal only she could summon, she threw herself into the training and studies to join the growing ranks of the exorcists that not only fought off daemons with the aid of the holy Malakhim spirits, but had helped establish order in parts of the world where the daemonblight had laid many towns, villages, and cities to ruin.

How proud her parents were when she had made Praetor in a short three years. And more so when she had been given two new malakhim to aid her in her endeavors.

She felt proud herself. She had made something of herself. Her accomplishments would no doubt lead her to great things. Things she hoped would help make the difference.

And yet…

There was something missing.

Artorious was certainly a man with many answers for those who sought to contain and destroy the daemonblight. However, to her slight frustration, she felt herself in familiar spaces when the answers he had given seemed all too familiar to the first head of the abbey she had known in her younger years.

It was only once in a while she brought this up with her fellow exorcists and when it was apparent that her questions would lead her into trouble, she bit her tongue. The last thing she needed was to be reprimanded for asking questions.

So, she continued her duties, studying the arts of warfare that Artorious had established and did her best to uphold the law.

Still, the questions asked again in the back of her mind. It even gave her malakhim, while obedient to her will as they should be, cause to ponder themselves.

Then, she had heard of the riots at Titania. The other Praetors rarely spoke of it and to her surprise, discovered that it was more than just a prison for daemons. Normal humans were also sent there. Even the odd heretic exorcist that had failed or rebelled against the Abbey.

But why? Why was the need for a place like Titania to even exist? Surely with the daemonblight being fought against, it would enable them to use resources to do better than simply create a prison.

And that was where she heard of the most infamous of those at Titania;

Velvet Crowe.

Surely a monster of a woman. No, not a woman anymore. A therion. Details of them were sketchy at best, as they rarely ever appeared. But when they Abbey did know of them was that they were creatures of appetite without restraint.

They could consume any living creature by touch alone and their insatiable appetite for blood made them nearly impossible to kill.

Artorious had warned her and the other Praetors of her after the riots. Her desire for chaos had no bounds and anyone who would seek to bar her path would be struck down without hesitation. Therefore, should she ever be found, summon more and take the therion down before more would fall to her wrath.

Naturally, such word made Eleanor’s imagination run. She imagined a nine foot tall abomination, with jaws strong enough to snap bone, claws sharp enough to rend flesh, its skin a hideous mesh of daemon blood and corruption, and its eyes, by the Empyreans, her eyes would glow in the all consuming rage she garnered her strength by. Truth be told, Eleanor hoped that if she were to run across such a thing, she would not be alone.

Yet, she did.

In the humble hamlet of Beardsley, she had dispatched a random daemon that had gotten too close to the town. She was then accosted by a pair of travelers who had caught her weeping at her inability to stop it before the daemonblight rendered another poor soul lost.

Yet, she did see Velvet Crowe.

She was beautiful.

Not much taller than herself. Skin a wholesome dark brown, her hair appeared to have been practically a mane of jet black silk that weavers would fought amongst themselves to work with, a musculature that implied strength normally not seen on a woman as soft as herself, and, despite the ragged and torn outfit, she appeared as normal as anyone she would pass though a town.

And then her eyes. They shone gold and with an intensity few could hope to match. Yet, her face was hard. Light seemed to drown in her dark brown skin. And her musculature displayed strength gained through hardship.

They exchanged greetings and pleasantries, curt as they were, and went their way.

Eleanor found her thoughts often returning to the woman.

Se never admitting to falling to flights of fancy, however this was an exception. The stranger held a ferocity in both her gaze and posture, it did not surprise Eleanor when they met again under less ideal circumstances.

After she had escaped, with one of Teresa’s malakim in tow, she had asked questions regarding the destroyed warehouse with the mineral gel. To her dismay, she was rebuffed and denied access at every turn. The reason for Crowe’s behavior had to have some sort of rhyme and reason behind it.

Then, after her subsequent defeat and forced vow to serve Velvet and her cause, she had a little reason to listen to anything Velvet had said. The casual conversation about needing her alive instead of whole did not endear her to Eleanor either.

All her talk about murdering the Shepard jarred Eleanor greatly. How dare she? The Shepard was to be the one that would end the daemonblight and save humanity…

…wasn’t he?

Even working as a spy, of sorts, to bring the malak back to the Lord Artorious, she still found something distasteful about the subterfuge she was forced to engage in. She was never one to hide her thoughts, opinions, or questions.

She stood as a silent witness to the violent mannerisms of the criminal. Yet, the malak she had abducted was been a source of reflection in her.

Bit by bit, she began to see the one called Laphicet grow as as individual. It was remarkable, considering everything the Abbey spoke of the Malakim were sacred spirits, meant to aid the exorcists on their holy mission and little else. Though he, and the pirate, Eizen, seemed to throw those ideas into question.

In addition, the further she traversed with Velvet, the more she had been exposed to activities by the Abbey that shocked her to her core. One after the other, she had been told of ‘necessary sacrifices’ that seemed far more inhumane than the principles she espoused, quite vocally no less.

“Convenient words, meant to be tossed aside when the Abbey can’t get what it wants from the unwilling,” Velvet had spat once.

Eleanor had sent an icy glare Velvet’s way, but said nothing. There was truth in her words and they stung greatly.

It wasn’t until Haria and Palamedes that Eleanor’s conviction began to falter.

Kamoana’s fate and her mother, the poor thing, had shaken her greatly. Not to mention Oscar’s callous words and Velvet’s sudden rise in her defense.

It was all too much. As much as she wanted, even confiding in Kamoana, revealing her own scar, did not seem to ease the doubts she had.

The straw that broke the proverbial beast of burden’s back was their sojourn into Titania’s depths and to Velvet’s old cell.

She had denied the very idea of Lord Artorious doing something so callous as chopping Velvet’s arm off and sealing her there.

A loud crack drew all their attention to Velvet, her malformed arm unfurled and gripped against the wall. Her gaze was one of barely restrained anger, her snarl quivering with rage, and heavy breathing.

“Dammit, Eleanor! All this and you still keep that bastard on a pedestal!?”

All their gazes turned to her as she realized how badly she had erred. Velvet’s anger had hurt. Her attraction notwithstanding, she had to stand up for what she believed to be true.

“Forget it,” Velvet growled, suddenly ripping her claws through the stone, then changed back. “We’re done for now. Rest up, all of you. We’re meeting up with the Bloodwings once we get to Zekson.”

One by one, they exited the cell, leaving Eleanor alone to smolder. The Abbey, and Lord Artorious’ teachings, had saved her life! How was she supposed to reconcile the growing number of indiscretions and the idea that she may have been deceived this whole time out of misplaced loyalty?

She huffed and was ready to exit when she saw the claw marks Velvet had made. They were right below another set of claw marks. Clearly older than fresh ones made a moment ago.

She held a hand to her face. It was the exact same. The chances of another creature like that, making a similar mark were next to nothing.

The perfect and pristine faith she had in Artorious and his word had gained another crack.

Velvet was imprisoned here for three whole wretched years, treated like a caged animal to be fed malevolence. Wasn’t she?

All of a sudden, Velvet’s claims began to be not as far fetched as she thought.

*

During their hunts for other therion, she had heard whispers between her traveling companions here and there concerning Velvet needing time alone. For what, she could not discern.

One night, after completing another hunt for their shadowy benefactors, Eleanor had noticed something amiss. While the moon was not red, it shone a menacing orange.

From her room at the inn, she gazed intently at the night sky.

She could not put a direct cause to it, but there was a caution in the air. In addition, to her consternation, the sounds of Velvet and Magilou in the next room made her frown. She sighed at the giggling of the later and whatever the former was saying.

Degenerate, she had called the witch. To which, she once replied, “jealous?”

She fumed at the witch’s smirk.

When they were done, Eleanor could hear Velvet putting her gear on and padding down the hallway.

Odd, she thought. Why would she want to leave at this hour? While she was certainly in a position not to worry about the bands of demons marauding through the countryside, it was certainly curious for her to do that instead of rest.

She was about to go to sleep when her door opened and in strode Magilou, looking clearly satiated with what she had just done with Velvet.

“What do you want, witch?” She asked tersely.

“Good gracious, miss audacious!” She answered with mock shock and indignation. “Just wanted to let you know, since you're the latest actor in our little trope, that Velvet’s not going to be back until the morn. So, you need not worry.”

Eleanor cocked an eyebrow. "Why would she leave?" She looked back outside and back to the witch.

Magilou smiled and swung her hips this way and that idly. "Oh, it's just a little thing she does every now and then. Well, it's on nights like these she goes out and hunts."

"Hunts what?" Eleanor replied, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Magilou's smile grew dark. "Does it really matter? She's Therion. She hungers. She hunts. What ever holds the misfortune of crossing her path is what it is; food."

Eleanor frowned. "Wait... is not the supplies we bring with us enough?"

The witch shrugged. "Oh, she can eat the things you and I can consume without a second thought. But I had hoped you had paid attention, poopsie."

The exorcist ignored the jab. "About what?"

"Ah, and here I had such high hopes for you," Magilou sighed openly, "I repeat, she is Therion. She hungers. And yet, she can eat and eat and eat all the live long day and will never be satisfied. It's a shame, really. The prickleboars she roasts are simply to die for!"

"How does that even work?"

"She can't taste anything," Magilou was still and stared directly into Eleanor's eyes, "like I said, she can eat all she wants, but everything bears the taste of ash in her mouth. It's an unfortunate trade for the power she now wields. Well, everything except," she quickly closed the distance between them and rasped in her scariest voice, "BLOOD!! OOOH BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!"

Eleanor was neither surprised nor impressed. "So, she goes and hunts creatures out while we're all here. Isn't she in danger being out and alone?"

Magilou took a step back and chuckled.

"Oh no, dear deer, it's not her safety you should be worried for," she walked up to Eleanor's ear and whispered, "she does it to protect us from her. From her hunger... though, I would imagine you'd have no problem with her, eheh, eating you."

The exorcist shoved the witch backward, who caught herself against the wall.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that," Eleanor growled loudly, wishing she had her lance at her side.

Magilou's smile became malicious, the same way when she would torture Bienfu.

"Oh ho, another flaw in the armor appears," she said to herself more than Eleanor as she began to circle the exorcist.

“Fee fi fou fum, from whence shall the truth come?” she tapped the tips of her fingers greedily, which set Eleanor’s pulse faster as she felt frozen under the witche’s sneer.

“It’s as plain as the sun rises in the sky in the dawn that our intrepid leader has piqued your interest, your diverging points of view of the Shepard notwithstanding” Magilou began, “oh, but you’re an upstanding and moral exorcist from the Abbey! Such desires are taboo from what I’ve been told.”

“That is none of your-” Eleanor began before Megilou put her finger to her lips.

“Shh. Do you hear that?” she looked to the corners of the room frantically before walking behind Eleanor and grabbing her shoulders gently, “it’s the sound of silence. Hello, darkness, my old friend; I’ve come to talk to you again… about secrets.” She leaned to the left and stared straight ahead. “Wonderful secrets!” She leaned to the right. “Horrible secrets!”

“For example;” Magilou declared amid a dance, “would it surprise you to know that I was in Titania for as long as Velvet was? Hmm? Oh, how she struggled. How she raged! It took at least a dozen or more exorcists to drag her to the cell where she was trapped. Oh, but what a struggle! What defiance! It was nothing short of inspiring!” she quickly leaned in momentarily and whispered huskily, “and arousing!”

“You… you…” Eleanor tried to counter, but Magilou laughed scornfully at her feeble attempt.

“Oh, my sweet, naive summer child,” she interrupted with a hostile grin, “the truth from a liar stings tenfold more than that of an honest man! Behold!”

She waved her arms and summoned an arte that created a sphere with what was most likely the view from Magilou’s memory. She could tell the difference between a fabrication and the authentic. She was a Praetor after all.

Her hands flew to her mouth in surprise when the image of a younger Velvet, growling angrily, chained by a dozen exorcists, fought against her bindings, and to her horror, there was Lord Artorious and Ceres behind them, watching Velvet be placed inside the cell below.

“Know the weight of your sins, Velvet. Let the blood of those you’ve murdered cry out for justice as you pay your debt to society,” Artorious announced.

“No,” Eleanor whispered, aware that her logic told her this was really happened. Artorious was not supposed to be this callous! Furthermore, how could he claim that it was her fault when people were made therions against their will? It was a lie. A terrible lie!

A sinister cackle from Magilou brought her back. “Oh, yes, precious princess. And it gets better.” She snapped her fingers.

Images of daemons, monsters, and humans, being dumped into the hole where Velvet no doubt devoured them all, came and went at a feverish pace. “Just like the therions we’ve liberated thus far, they did the same to her before she escaped. Just like the bug from the woods, and just like that poor child from Haria. All the work of the Abbey. Or do you really believe them to be above something so vile when there’s a world to be ‘saved’?”

Another snap of her fingers caused the arte to vanish.

“If you want to go ahead and call me, and Roukurou for that matter, a liar too, that’s your prerogative. But, I digress and ramble. We were discussing you, sweet peach.”

Eleanor barely had time to take a breath as Magilou went and pranced about the room. “So, oh humble Hume; when did you realize your held favor for the fair? Hmm? Was it a summer sensation? An autumn odyssey? A spring fling? Whatever could it be? And with our vile violent, Velvet, I can definitely see the appeal. The silken tresses falling off her muscular shoulders as the light shining off of it contrasts against her delightfully brown skin. The completely and utterly delicious abdominals and sculpted legs that strike the perfect balance between form and function! It’s simply all too much to bear for a maiden’s heart consumed with lurid, licentious, and vile lusts!”

Eleanor clenched her fists, fighting the urge to commit violence, especially since they had promised the innkeeper they would not make a racket this time.

Magilou held her hands to her face, as if trying to read the exorcist before offering, “was it the odd glance of the town merchant’s wife? The butcher’s niece?” Her smirk grew as she leaned in a whispered, “stealing a first kiss from the mayor’s daughter?”

The sweat on Eleanor’s temples made her skin all the paler as she tensed.

Magilou’s grin bared teeth as she realized her advantage.

“Well, well, seems what they say about ladies in the Abbey aren’t so far fetched after all,” she put her hands together in a mock prayer, “when it comes to men, they play virgins in the light. Yet, when it comes to the fairer femmes, they need no urging in the night.”

Magilou didn’t have a chance to react before Eleanor grabbed her by the neck and held against the wall with one hand squeezing harder with every second.

“Push me, witch,” Eleanor snarled as her face contorted in rage as she shook, “see how well you can taunt me when I tear your tongue out with my bare hands!”

Despite her position, Magilou still smirked as she forced out, “you really are jealous, aren’t you? Planning on killing me so you can keep Velvet for yourself? I’m impressed. Good luck, though, she’s not entirely happy with you at the moment.”

Eleanor hissed in Magilou’s face, “you know nothing!”

Before Magilou could retort, she was thrown down to the floor as Eleanor stomped out of the room and out of the inn. She had swiped her lance and fought against the moisture growing in her eyes, hoping to the Empyreans that Magilou, or anyone for that matter, did not see her moment of weakness.

She was shaken to the point where she didn’t care where she went so long as she could not stand to be in the witch’s presence anymore.

It was then it dawned on her.

She was alone. She was outside of town. She whirled to see she had come out a good distance, judging by the faint light of the town’s torches. The moon was still out.

Then, there was the smell of ichor in the air that made her uneasy.

Sounds came from between the trees.

Sounds that one normally does not hear in the forest.

Eleanor gripped both hands to her weapon. She was not going to die tonight!

She failed to make her breath settle as she trudged through the brush to hear the sounds of what could only have been something… soft. Something being bit into.

Another tear and a snapping of something solid. Bone?!

The light of the moon only gave her the outline of her quarry in the clearing ahead as she held one hand to her face in horror.

It was Velvet… or something that vaguely resembled her.

She was hunched over, her demon arm unfurled, but it wasn’t just that. Her other arm and legs. Her entire body was covered in the angry, red light of the corrosive texture of her therion form. Velvet’s head, the mane of jet black hair being the only recognizable feature left, reared up and continued to chew at a piece of flesh from a creature easily twice her side as though she were a wolf.

Bones snapped. Blood splashed. And the creature that Velvet had become had its jaw unhinged to consume the meat easier with teeth that shone from what little reflective light the moon gave.

Velvet was a monster! Was this what a therion truly was?!

She didn’t have time to wonder as Velvet stopped mid chew to pause and sniff the air.

It then turned to Eleanor’s direction. Two spheres of golden light shone in stark contrast to the dark figure she was now.

The exorcist knew she stood no chance as she dashed away.

The sound of crushed earth grew louder behind her as she forced her legs to move faster, but it was not enough.

One of Velvet’s hands batted her into the air and onto the path that lead to town.

The instant she got her bearings, she looked to see her lance just out of reach and was about to grab it when Velvet, or rather the creature she had become, pounced on her, pinning her arms to the ground and roaring as loud as it could into her face. The stench of blood and worse was overpowering and Eleanor knew she was done for.

To her surprise, the creature leaned in and sniffed once more. It reached in closer and continued to inspect until it reached her collarbone. It then stopped and when Eleanor opened her eyes again, the monster was breathing faster, more frantically.

It then leaped backward and into the trunk of a tree. It curled up into a ball and began to roar again. Except this time, it seemed horrified itself.

Eleanor stood up on shaky legs to observe the monster still roaring over and over, clawing at itself, as if it was trying to keep something out. She picked up her lance and despite all senses telling her to run, she approached Velvet again.

The sound Velvet was making was… how could she properly describe it. It was more akin to a wail.

Velvet had finally settled down when Eleanor, now just out of arm’s length, tried to see what was happening.

The heavy breathing gave way to sobbing as the creature looked to her. The eyes still shone a blinding gold, but Eleanor noticed something new. Streams of moisture had soaked the monster’s cheeks and groans soon followed.

It was then Eleanor understood.

Velvet wasn’t scared.

She was in agony.

When their eyes locked, Eleanor felt herself drawn into the light of Velvet’s. In an instant, she saw Magilou’s arte again in the back of her mind.

All at once, her perceptions of Artorious had been shattered. This was all his doing. She couldn’t deny it any longer.

Eleanor fell to her knees, holding her face to her hands.

How could she had been so blind? So wrong?

She looked up to see the creature, weary and whimpering, nuzzle itself against her face. The texture of Velvet’s skin was as coarse and rough as it seemed, almost as solid as metal, but malleable as leather. She reached up and gently stroked the tears away with her thumbs. When Velvet’s eyes closed, more moisture soaked Eleanor’s hands.

“I should have listened to you,” she whispered and sniffed before Velvet’s large hands slowly wrapped around her smaller frame and held her protectively. By all rights, she should have been terrified of being in such a position, but when she hugged the monster that Velvet had become, she felt no fear as Velvet’s embrace made her feel safer than she deserved.

Weary, and whimpering, Velvet slowly lay upon the ground, curled up as tightly as she could, trying to fight against the pain that Eleanor could feel.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as tears spilled, holding one of Velvet’s claws gingerly.

She would have continued her apology had she not heard the snarling of daemons emerging from the underbrush.

Her adrenaline wasn’t gone yet. In addition, her sorrow was quickly consumed by her rage at the sight of the daemons encircling them both. Velvet needed rest now. She was helpless.

Eleanor, on the other hand, was not.

Her other hand gripped her lance all the harder as she slowly stood up. With each successive breath, deeper and more heated, her fury at being used and deceived had worked her into the same controlled frenzy she almost unleashed on Magilou.

This time, however, there were no humans. No malakim. No therions. Just daemons.

She whirled her weapon once in a battle ready stance as her foes readied to lunge.

They didn’t get the chance.

*

The morning mist was heavy as Magilou idly chatted with the guards, much to their consternation. She would find one subject to speak to them about, only to switch to another, and another with no warning. Eventually, there would come a point where the guards would have tossed her out had they all not noticed Eleanor, carrying a barely conscious Velvet with an arm over the former’s shoulder.

Aside from the fact that both were still alive, Magilou noted the bruises, blood, and incisions on both of their persons. Either they had a fight or something had fought them.

Furthermore, judging by the weary look in Eleanor’s eyes, the witch had a feeling something had changed. She had seen that look before.

She smiled at the guards and chirped, “oh goodness, there they are! I knew the members of my menagerie would be hale and whole!”

The taller of the two sighed quietly before tilting his head backward, indicating the sooner she got her friends and got out of their sight, the better.

Magilou only smiled and waved cheekily as Eleanor limped past them all and back to the inn.

*

It had taken some hang wrangling, but Magilou was able to convince the innkeeper to prepare a pair of baths for Velvet and Eleanor, as they had spent the night clearing the nearby woods of daemons and other nasty beasts.

The light was piercing through the window as both women, sitting in opposing directions, scrubbed the filth off they had gathered the night before.

Few words were exchanged between them. What could they say, really?

Despite the awkwardness, the silence was starting to get to Eleanor.

“Velvet…” she finally forced herself to say.

“Hmm?” the other woman noticed as she combed her fingers through her long, jet black locks, removing debris from between the strands.

“I know it’s no business of mine, but…” she swallowed quickly and took a breath, “does it hurt? When your arm transforms, I mean.”

There was a long silence as Velvet looked up to her currently bare arm. Eleanor had only see glimpses beneath the enchanted bandages, but couldn’t bring herself to see what lay beneath.

“Every time.”

Eleanor looked down to the dirtied suds in her water, a feeling of dread welling up in her gut.

Initially, she wanted to know why she did it, and kept doing it, despite all the pain she no doubt had to endure. But she knew. Her lips thinned and she closed her eyes in shame.

She knew why Velvet acted the way she did.

What other course did she have? Simply waste away in Titania and die because it was ‘reasonable’? That the sacrifice of her family resulted in a means for the greater good?

She huffed, trying to keep the cuts she had sustained under the water so the bleeding from her scratches would be properly clean before she had to apply bandages of her own.

“Also, Velvet, I owe you an apology. One of several, in fact,” she began, keeping the quiver out of her voice.

“Oh?” she turned around.

“Recent events have brought everything I’ve known and believed about the Abbey into question. And… and you’re right. You were always right. I should have believed you at your word. Though, me being the hard-headed fool I was, couldn’t see through my loyalties.”

Velvet hummed. “I’m not surprised, though. Given how long you’ve lived and worked with them.”

Eleanor rubbed a stray hair between her index finger and her thumb. “Yes, but the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to look at the Abbey critically, despite my creed for finding the truth, doesn’t speak well of me. I’m… not pleased and ashamed of myself.”

Velvet snorted softly and turned back to recline against the back of her tub. “You should be. After all you’ve seen and experienced since you made that vow, I’m still angry with you it took this long to finally realize that the Abbey wasn’t what you thought it was.”

Eleanor winced. “I deserved that.”

Velvet’s tone softened somewhat. “You do, but at the same time, you know now. So, don't dwell on it too much. We have bigger problems ahead of us.”

There was another moment of silence. Velvet tilted her head to get the kinks out of her neck as she gathered her hair to check it once more.

“Eleanor,” Velvet said without turning away.

“Hm?”

“I got a note from a contact of mine. The Abbey’s dispatched Inquisitors to look for you.”

Eleanor’s heart sank. They were specifically chosen by the heads of the Abbey, and the Shepard Himself, to keep the institution free of traitors and turncoats. Eleanor never gave it much thought, because she was busy in study or training to becoming a praetor.

Now, she was a traitor in every sense of the word.

The Inquisitors were relentless and would not stop until she was captured. Naturally, the rumors of them employing inhumane tortures returned to the forefront. Of course, they could never be proved, as they were always under the jurisdiction of the Shepard himself.

Either way, she was doomed.

“For what it’s worth, Eleanor,” Velvet continued, “I’m not going to let them get you.”

Eleanor became downcast. “Yes. You need a vessel for Laphicet, after all.” She knew where she stood. She was a tool to be used and thrown away. Just like the Abbey.

“That’s not what I meant,” Velvet responded irritably, “Remember Beardsley? Out of all the Exorcists I’ve met, you’re the only one who would mourn a slain daemon.”

Eleanor looked up in surprise.

“Personally, all that talk about ‘reason’ is a bunch of shit. I’d rather have an Exorcist who’s honest about how she feels on my side. And the Abbey won’t be getting her back.”

A small smile began to form on Eleanor’s lips. She sighed deeply as she heard Velvet exit her tub.

“On a somewhat related note,” Velvet began as she dressed herself with a towel on both her head and body, “last night, you had something that brought me back to my senses. A daemon did something to you a while ago, didn’t it? The smell left on you shocked me out of my frenzy.”

Her smile vanished as she reached up to cover, in vain, the large scratch marks in her skin that reached from her collarbone to her waist.

For a moment, tension filled the room until Eleanor realized that if she was to be protected from the Abbey, she needed to show trust in Velvet now.

“Yes,” she answered with considerable difficulty, “when I was maybe nine, ten years old.”

“I see. When the time comes, I want to hear the whole story.”

Eleanor blinked in confusion. “I thought that-”

“I asked you what happened. You told me what happened,” Velvet said as she began to dress into her uniform. “That’s enough for now.”

Eleanor’s smile returned.

“You’re awfully patient and tactful for one called the Lord of Calamity.”

She could feel the smirk in Velvet’s answer. “I have my moments.”

Eleanor calmed herself and was about to give her hair another rinse before she heard Velvet walk up behind her. Before she could turn around, Velvet placed her hands, her left now covered in bandages, on her shoulders, leaned into her soaked mop of hair and whispered,

“Thank you for protecting me. It must have been very hard.”

Eleanor struggled to keep the quiver of her lip and fresh tears in check.

No one had ever thanked her before. Not like this.

Of course there was the perfunctory measures of appreciation, but they all paled in comparison to the fact that a wanted criminal like Velvet Crowe had shown the humanity she rarely saw in… anyone… really.

She nodded slightly. “You’re welcome.” She then reached up with her right hand and took Velvet’s left, turned and looked Velvet in the eye.

“I know my vow already has me bound to you till the end. But… I’d like to make an addition to it,” she smiled wearily, “I will place my trust in you, Velvet Crowe. And if that’s ever reciprocated, I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.”

She fought against the blush in her face when Velvet smiled. It was a real smile. No cynical or malicious smirks. The light in her eyes was enchanting. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Velvet stood up and walked quietly to the door, where Eleanor heard the sounds of Magilou throwing her arms around Velvet’s shoulders and kissing her repeatedly, with the usual gaggle of predictable quips and remarks.

Her good mood soured on account that, yes, Megilou was right; she was jealous. Velvet was strong, almost invulnerable. But still, she was fragile and human, despite all that had happened to her. Now came the hard part of letting her go, because, getting emotionally involved, especially when she was already involved with someone else, was a headache waiting to happen and one she did not need.

She sighed quietly and dunked her head under the cooling water, sleeking her hair before before opening her eyes to see a smirking Magilou at her side.

She frowned. “Can I help you?”

The witch tittered with a hand over her mouth. “Not in the conventional sense.”

“Please, I’m not in the mood for this.”

Magilou rolled her eyes. “Oh very well. I wanted to thank you and apologize.”

Eleanor blinked.

“Despite what you think of me, poopsie, I can show bouts of maturity every now and then,” she answered with an emphasized index finger, “Thank you for helping Velvet last night. Every time she had to hunt, seeing her come back broken and bruised hurt because we all knew that if anyone of us went, she’d devour us.”

She extended another finger. “I apologize for goading you last night.”

Eleanor spoke up, “and I apologize for manhandling you like I did.”

Magilou brushed it off. “Eh. You were right to act as you did. But then again, you were more restrained than most.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Magilou shrugged. “It’s mostly in what they said, you know; wanton trollop, guttertrash whore, filthy streetwalker, the usual. Getting tossed around’s a nice change of pace.”

Eleanor blanched. “You can’t be serious! Who would say such a thing?”

Magilou leaned against her hand on the side of the tub. “My parents.”

Eleanor gasped.

“Oh, I’d gotten used to it long before they disowned me. Probably the best for all involved.”

“Wh… why?! Why would they say that?”

Magilou gave her an incredulous look. “Come now, Honey Hume, you have to get to know me far better for me to divulge something so personal.”

Now it was Eleanor’s turn to give her the same look. “Then why even breach the subject?”

“Because you are now more or less a member of our little plethora of the pathetic,” she smiled a sad, fractured smile, “we are all broken in our own special ways.“

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond, but Magilou held up a hand.

“Before you protest, met me illustrate; Velvet, betrayed by some she trusted and loved as family. Rokurou, wants to commit fratricide against a brother who sees him as more an amusement than a person. Eizen, he has probably lost more friends than we are aware of due to his curse. Me, well, you take wager a guess already. And our little Laphi Taphi wasn't much of anything before he joined up. And I'm sure whatever story you have let's you fit in just fine.”

“I… can’t really deny that,” Eleanor admitted.

“See? Misery loves company and I think it’s safe to say we’re all pretty damn miserable,” Magilou muttered with her chin on her forearms, “in fact, that gives me an idea.”

“Oh?”

“When Magilou’s Menagerie gets long in the tooth, we can change our name to ‘Captain Velvet and the Broken Souls Brigade’! The sullen, sulky storytellers who tell tales of woe for the amusement of the masses!”

Eleanor opened her mouth irritably, but then stopped. She then leaned against the side of the tub and said with a tired smile. “That name doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, you know.”

Megilou only smiled and tilted her head playfully. “It’s a work in progress.”

There was another moment of comfortable silence between before Eleanor whispered, “Thank you, Magilou. For someone as… miserable as I am, it’s nice to know I belong somewhere. I never felt this welcome, even in the Abbey.”

“Doesn’t surprise me at all,” Magilou said before she stood up, leaned over and kissed Eleanor on the cheek.

To the surprised exorcist, Magilou gave a playful smirk. “As a show of good faith, I’m letting you know that Velvet likes having you around. As do I. If you play your cards right, you and I can share her. And I certainly wouldn’t refuse getting to know you more intimately too!”

Eleanor frowned in shock. “What are you…?”

“You have to admit that us three would be nice, given our respective favors and foibles. Besides, love triangles are so boring and silly. It’s like they're written by some half wit writer that thinks romance novels are how romance actually goes.”

Eleanor turned away with a hard pout. Even if Magilou was right!

“I’ll… think about it.”

Megilou giggled mischievously. “I knew you had it in you, Sweet Peach! I’ll let you finish up. We need to get going within the hour.”

Eleanor sighed. She was finally relaxing for once. “Very well.”

Magilou was about to exit when she turned around.

“Eleanor.”

The exorcist blinked and turned to the witch.

Magilou had a smile that seemed bereft of her usual cynicism and guile.

“Thank you.” With that, she left Eleanor alone to wonder.

What a strange turn of events.

If her parents could see her now.

Eleanor couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity. Truth was, truly, stranger than fiction.

**Author's Note:**

> The Velvet Crowe is based off of @munadoodlesnonsense‘s version of Velvet Crowe. Which can be found at https://tmblr.co/mxuATbpA6k8tTvu0ARJt8uQ
> 
> -
> 
> I have since finished the game, which left me upset and unhappy. And it also brought in other narrative mistakes, aside from the ending, that besmirched an otherwise fantastic game. 
> 
> Most specifically, Eleanor's character growth. 
> 
> Speaking with someone else who noticed that; Eleanor does not actively state that she believes Velvet when there is evidence clearly painting Artorious and the Abbey as anything is quite jarring when, even after her side quest, she has not grown much as a person, if at all. Considering this is my first Tales game since Symphonia, which I never completed, it was also made known to me that the Tales series holds a bit of notoriety when it comes to inconsistent character arcs, so, I believe this may not have been intentional, but it still is quite jarring to see an otherwise good character treated so poorly. 
> 
> So, I rewrote this with the intention of showing how Eleanor deciding to put her trust in Velvet, as she should have from the view of someone hoping to see the former grow to a complete person. I hope I succeeded.


End file.
